Evil MC's NTR Harem

Ross looked up from the ice bag and smirked, clearly amused.

"That's the plan," he replied with a cocky grin.

"Or maybe I'll start with the other two first. I'm just waiting for the right opportunity."

Lily raised an eyebrow, surprised by how easily he admitted it.

But then again… this was Ross.

"Wow. Not even pretending to be subtle, huh?" she said, though her lips curled into a smile. "You're shameless."

"I prefer honest," he said smoothly, taking a step toward her.

That slight movement made her pulse jump.

She told herself it was just the alcohol making her more aware of his presence—his body, his eyes, that smug confidence that seemed to radiate off him like heat.

"You wouldn't dare," she said, her tone light but laced with challenge.

"My family's powerful, you know. If you mess with me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Ross chuckled under his breath, unfazed.

"I doubt it," he said, eyes locked on hers. "I'm going to get you—whether you want it or not."

Her breath hitched.

She knew he was just playing along, teasing, but something about his words made a shiver trail down her spine.

She felt exposed, vulnerable, and weirdly excited.

"Prove it," she said boldly, though her voice was quieter this time.

Her heart thumped louder in her chest.

Ross tilted his head. "Oh? Is that a challenge?"

"Kiss me, then," she added, heat rising to her cheeks. "If you dare."

The blush spread across her face, deep and undeniable.

Even through the haze of alcohol, she could feel how significant this moment was.

She wasn't the type to say things like that. She wasn't the type to flirt with someone like Ross.

And yet here she was… daring him.

Ross didn't even blink. "Fine," he said softly. "You asked for it."

He took another step closer. Then another.

She could feel the warmth of his body now, the faint scent of smoke from the grill still clinging to his skin, mixed with something uniquely him.

Then he kissed her.

His lips met hers in a firm, confident press that silenced her thoughts instantly.

"Mmmph—"

Her eyes flew open, startled, her mind briefly scrambling to process what was happening.

But then… something clicked.

His mouth moved against hers with slow, deliberate skill, coaxing rather than demanding.

He didn't just kiss her—he claimed her in that moment, without saying a word.

Her resistance melted like ice in sunlight.

Her hands, which had stiffened at first, slowly lifted to his chest, not to push him away—but to feel him.

To confirm that this was real. That she was kissing Ross.

And that it felt… incredible.

Ross deepened the kiss, his hand lightly brushing her waist. Not grabbing. Not forcing.

Just touching her enough to let her know he was there, fully present, fully aware of what he was doing—and what she was allowing.

Lily's eyes fluttered closed.

She leaned into him, surrendering the last of her hesitation as her lips parted slightly, letting him taste her.

Her pulse raced wildly, and warmth bloomed inside her like fire spreading through dry leaves.

It wasn't just the alcohol anymore.

It was him.

And the truth was… she didn't know if she wanted him to stop.

Their kiss stretched on, long and heated, until the world around them blurred and faded.

She could barely remember how it started. All she knew was that she didn't want it to end.

Maybe it had been ten minutes—maybe longer—but the way Ross kissed her, touched her, owned the moment, made time lose all meaning.

At some point, the bag of ice slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud, water already beginning to pool around it.

Neither of them noticed. All that mattered was the feeling—the intoxicating pull between them.

Ross's hands moved with confidence. First, he cradled her waist, then slid down to the curve of her hips.

His fingers gripped her ass—firm, bold, and unapologetic—and Lily gasped into the kiss, the sound muffled by their lips.

A moment later, his hands moved up, cupping her breasts over her top.

He gave them a gentle squeeze, thumbs teasing her nipples through the fabric, and her soft moans grew louder, more desperate.

Her body trembled under his touch.

Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt, not pulling away, but clinging to him—like if she let go, she'd fall apart.

And then, all at once, he stopped.

Ross slowly pulled back, leaving her lips tingling and her body pulsing with unmet desire.

He stepped just far enough away to look at her properly.

Lily stood there, stunned. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and her eyes were glazed with a mix of longing and confusion.

She looked almost dazed—like she was waking up from a dream she didn't want to end.

Ross couldn't help but grin.

Even in that moment, she was beautiful—soaked in desire, lips slightly swollen from their kiss, her hair a mess, and her expression raw with emotion.

He loved seeing women like this. Not conquered. Not broken. But stirred.

And yet… he didn't move to claim her.

Lily finally spoke, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. "Why? Why did you stop?"

Ross tilted his head, eyes playful, voice smooth as ever.

"Because I don't fuck drunk women," he said simply. "No matter how sexy and beautiful they are."

She blinked, confused for a heartbeat. "What…?"

"I don't take advantage," Ross said. "When we do it—and we will—I want you completely aware of what you're doing. I want you to remember every second. And I want you to choose it. Not just because you're tipsy and feeling reckless."

Lily swallowed hard, her throat dry. Her hands were still trembling slightly.

"But..." she started, the protest dying in her mouth.

Because deep down, she respected that answer. Admired it, even.

He stepped closer again—just enough to brush her hair away from her face, his fingers light against her cheek.